


Fallen Stars & Healing

by The_annoying_fangirl



Series: They Fell From the Sky [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Father-Daughter Relationship, Lesbian Character, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Mystery, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:02:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26610355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_annoying_fangirl/pseuds/The_annoying_fangirl
Summary: Four years ago Sibley stood at her father's grave and asked him not to be dead, but that's not how it works. So she moved on, forgot the trauma, and created a new life. One far away from Moriarty and serial killers.Of course, she should have known, you can't escape your past that easily.Now Sherlock is back and she's got fresh trauma and an innocent life to protect. Will she allow Sherlock to drag her back into a world she would rather forget?Sequel to Falling Stars and Cigarettes
Relationships: Mary Morstan/John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Bill Wiggins, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & Original Child Character(s), Sherlock Holmes & Original Female Character(s)
Series: They Fell From the Sky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1006869
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

Sibley sat in the chair across from the older woman and played with the hem of her shirt as the two of them sat in awkward silence. Dr. Lane was unbothered and waiting patiently for a response from the now seventeen year old girl who was rolling the question around in her mind and debating if she even wanted to answer it.

Traumatized. That’s what John had said she was a week after Sherlock’s funeral when Sibley had yet again refused to eat. In just two weeks she had managed to lose enough weight that it had become noticeable, she had stopped speaking, and he heard her crying in her room almost every night. He had finally stopped dancing around her, sat her down and said-

“Sibley, I know you don’t want to hear this but you have to get help. You’re not just grieving, you’re traumatized and it’s affecting you. I can’t let this go on any longer.”

After more tears and her begging he made her promise to see a therapist. She was quickly diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and recommended medication. Sibley was a hard no on the drugs and John supported that decision, they both knew what drug use did to both of her parents. However, he did force her to continue to go to therapy, he said it would do her good. She knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Sibley,” Dr. Lane snapped her out of her thoughts, “would you rather I ask a different question?” she asked gently. Dr. Lane was wonderful, Sibley could admit that, she was a kind woman who seemed to actually care about her well being, she was patient and understanding and accommodating to Sibley’s needs.

“No. No, I’m sorry, just got lost in thought.” the teenager replied. She did that often go into some headspace that sometimes she could easily be pulled out of, other times she couldn’t, it always depended on the day, the thoughts, and how quickly someone caught her floating. She thought back to the question at hand was a simple one, it just forced her to think about things she’d rather not, though, that was most of the therapy.

Is there a specific event that you dream about most or are the dreams varied?

“They’re varied... depends on the day before but…” Sibley trailed off and began to chew on her already short thumb nail.

“Sibley.” Dr. Lane said softly. The teenager looked up and the therapist gestured with her eyes at the girls hand. Sibley immediately pulled her hand away from her mouth.

“I often have this dream where when I climb up the tree when I’m running away from Mor- him- I fall out and then I can see myself bleeding out on the concrete next to Amber, my father, and John.” she said in a rush. She tucked her hands underneath herself, hunched her shoulders, and tucked her chin, something she did when she was feeling most vulnerable and was trying to make herself smaller.

Dr. Lane watched her carefully before speaking slowly.

“Is this a nightmare or a dream?” she asked. Sibley didn’t have to ask what the older woman meant. She knew exactly what was being asked of her. If she could shrink anymore, she probably would.

“I… I think sometimes I wish it was real, because then I would be with everyone and it would be okay.” she muttered. Dr. Lane nodded.

“And how are you feeling right now?”

“I’m not feeling particularly suicidal at this moment if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are you being honest.”

“Yes. If I was feeling suicidal I wouldn’t have told you about the dream. I may not be as smart as my father but I’m smart enough to know what might make you suspect me of wanting to kill myself.” she snapped angrily. She often had mood swings, she could go from being nervous and fidgety to angry very easily, in fact it was the main swing she went through. Nervous to angry. It was a defense mechanism.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Sibley, from our conversations today I believe you are doing quite well but you know I have to ask.” Dr. Lane said. Sibley nodded.

“I’m okay… For now…”

At the end of the session she walked into the waiting room where John sat, bouncing his leg nervously as he read the paper. Sibley had retreated back into her shell and quietly walked over to him. He smiled at her and stood. After sharing a quick word with the doctor he led his god daughter out of the office.

“How did it go?” he asked her.

“Like normal,” she muttered, kicking a random pebble on the sidewalk as John hailed a cab.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“As much as normal.” was the teens response. John sighed. It had been a few months since Sherlock had died and he was trying to support Sibley as best as he could but he knew well the effects of PTSD and how unmanageable it seemed at times. He couldn’t imagine how hard it was for Sibley. She was still very young, not even an adult yet and she had been kidnapped and then watched her father and first love die right in front of her, all at the tender age of sixteen. 

The two climbed into a cab and Sibley leaned on John. He looked down at her slightly surprised. Normally after an appointment she kept distance between herself and anyone around and avoided any contact with anyone. Now she seemed to be seeking comfort and John wondered if that meant it went exceptionally well or exceptionally bad. Teenage girls were hard enough to figure out without all of the added mental issues. He cautiously put an arm around her unsure of whether or not he should. It turned out to be the right decision as she didn’t pull away, just turned into him more and closed her eyes and sniffled.

“It’s really hard sometimes. I hate talking about it because I have to think about it.” she whispered.

“I know,” he said softly, “but it will get better.”

“When?”

“In your own time.”

"So at this rate never." she sighed and turned her head into his chest, he held her tightly to him, now it was 100% clear that she did want his comfort and he would do anything to give it to her, he felt that he at least owed her that. He wasn't able to save Sherlock, but he could take care of his daughter.

They made it back to 221B and Sibley was out of the cab and into her room before he could even finish paying the cabbie. He sighed as he walked into the living room. He had been wanting to move. The memories held at the flat were just too numerous and he thought it would do Sibley some good to go somewhere else, he just had to actually talk to her about it. He wasn't sure if she'd be upset with him or not. 

Sibley laid on her bed and pulled her computer out, the one her father had given her so many months earlier, and began to type. That's what she had taken to doing when the emotions got to be too much to handle, she would write it all out. She had chapters and chapters and chapters written all about her father and her life with him. It was quite interesting, or at least she thought so. Never a dull moment when Sherlock was still alive.

After a few hours of writing she heard a knock at her door. She closed the laptop and called for him to come in.

"Hey, I was thinking maybe we could go to Angelo's tonight, you interested?" John asked. She shrugged, stood up, and grabbed her leather jacket.

"Sure."

~~~

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," John said after their meals had come out. Sibley nodded.

"I can tell." She said warily. Whatever it was, it made John nervous.

"Listen, I know how lucky we are to be in 221B with Mrs. Hudson and everything, but I feel like it's time to move on to a new setting." he said. Sibley frowned and opened and closed her mouth a few times before looking at her hands in her lap.

"He's barely been gone two months, John," she whispered.

"I know. I'm not saying move on from what's happened. I'm just saying that flat isn't helping either of us heal. It's hard, Sibley." he said. She glanced up at him before looking back down. He was right. Sometimes she'd go lay in Sherlock's room that looked the exact same as it had before and just cry and while she wanted to say it was healing, it was probably hurting her more than anything and she was always getting flashbacks in the flat. Besides, John had been so helpful to her if this is what he needed she should give it to him. She nodded.

"Okay… okay. Let's move."


	2. Chapter 1

_4 years later_

_(in this book four years passed before Sherlock came back)_

  
Sibley sighed as she walked out of her office and into the cold London air. It was late and while she knew she should go home and get some sleep, especially since there was still a case to solve, but she had adopted her father's horrid sleep schedule and instead she walked into her favorite 24 hour diner and ordered a black coffee. That night would be spent like most others, pouring over photos and interviews and trying to find the truth. After all, she had experience in detective work that gave her an edge when hunting down stories and she owed it to all the people her father wasn’t saving anymore to at least warn them of what's out there.

When she got back to her flat she threw her keys onto the coffee table by the sofa and eased into Sherlocks old chair with a file in hand. As she was flipping through the pages her mobile began to vibrate. She scrunched her eyebrows when she saw that John was calling. It was 1:15 in the morning, he was usually in bed by that time. Her mind immediately went to the worst as she answered.

"Hey is everything okay? Is Willamina alright?”

"Yeah, she’s fine. I just need to talk to you about something. Sibley, love, I'm on my way to your flat." he said. She set the file beside her and stood up to put the kettle on, just by the tone of his voice she knew they were going to need it, especially since she had already finished her coffee.

"Why? What's wrong?" she asked.

"I'll tell you when I get there," he said.

"O-kay, I guess I'll see you soon then." she said.

"Bye, Sib." with that he hung up and she was left once again in silence. Her mind began to race with horrible scenarios. It wasn’t Willamina but it had to be someone else. Something had happened to Mrs. Hudson. Something had happened to Mary. Something had happened to Mycroft. Something had happened to Lestrade despite the fact that she had just seen him. 

Her mind was still reeling when there was a quick knock on the door. She rushed over to open it to find John standing there holding a three year old asleep on his shoulder. Sibley softly took her daughter from the man and went to lay her down in her bedroom.

Willamina Joan Holmes was born right before Sibley turned 19. She had been in a not so good relationship with a not so good man. He was long out of the picture but Willamina was the light of Sibley’s life. She was the only reason Sibley didn’t regret every decision she made during that time. She looked almost exactly like her mother did at that age, save a few differences. 

"Here," she passed John a mug of tea after laying her daughter down and he thanked her as he sat down on her couch. She settled back into her favorite chair.

"Okay. Tell me." she demanded, desperate for an answer. John ran a hand down his face, whatever he had to say wasn’t good and it was times like this she actually missed her father’s lack of empathy, she would already know what had happened. Though she loved John and he was human, a human that loved her and was just trying to protect her.

“Listen, Lestrade called. I really don’t know how to say this… Your mother had a heart attack.” 

Sibley froze at the revelation. After a couple of years in prison for drug abuse and child neglect Breanna Lawrence fell right back into old habits only worse. It didn’t take long for her to end up back behind bars but Sibley hadn’t even spoken to her since that one visit shortly after she was imprisoned the first time so it didn’t bother her. As far as she was concerned her mother was out of her life. Still, death was different than imprisonment. Her mother was truly gone now. What scared her the most about John’s revelation, was the relief she felt. She should be crying. She should be sad and confused but instead it was as if a tension she hadn’t noticed had vanished from her shoulders. 

“Oh.” was the choked reply that came out of her mouth. It was all she even knew how to say.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stay with you?” John asked worriedly. She shook her head.

“N-no. No, I’m fine.” she gave him a tight smile, “S’pose I should start planning a funeral I guess… I don’t really know anyone that would come. I’m her only family member… Drug dealers and ex boyfriends maybe?” she chewed on her lower lip. After a moment of silence she looked up at John to see him watching her in confusion. She sighed.

“I should feel sad rather than burdened, shouldn’t I?” she asked, an overwhelming amount of guilt washing over her. 

“You’re allowed to feel however you feel, Sibley. Especially with your neglectful mother.” John said. She wrung her hands together and sighed.

“I guess I just… My mom died a long time ago. I already mourned her death. The woman she became…” she ran a hand through her hair.

“I need to go to bed.” she decided. John nodded.

“Rest is a good idea. Want me to come back in the morning? Even if just to help with Willa?” he asked. She gave him a soft smile.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll let you know of any planning help I need.” she said. He engulfed her into a hug.

“Goodnight, Sibley.” he said.

“Night John.”

~~~

As Sibley suspected, the turn out for the celebration of her mother’s life was small. Molly, John, Mycroft, and about three other people she didn’t recognize were there. It was small and quick and Sibley didn’t shed a single tear. 

Willamina, a toddler who thought well beyond her years, clung to her mother's side quietly and watched as Sibley made insufferable small talk with the guests.

“Sibley?” one of the strangers approached her, hesitant. 

“Yes?” she asked.

“My name is Dianne. I went to Uni with your mother. Listen, I don’t know what happened to her over the last several years, but she was a good friend to me, once upon a time, so if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” she said softly, handing her a business card.  
  
“Oh, uh, thanks.” Sibley muttered, but the woman was already walking away. She looked down at the small card. A lawyer. That could be helpful, most people needed a lawyer at least once in their lifetime. 

John walked over to her.

“Who was that?” he asked, glancing at the card.

“An old college friend of my mothers.” she said. The few memories she still had of the days before her mother lost it began to go through her head. She imagined her mother, young and beautiful, studying to be a lawyer and going to parties and hanging out with other pre law students. Before she dropped out due to her pregnancy. She wondered if things would had been different if she had never been born.

When the funeral ended Sibley was quick to leave, no speech for her mother. It was sad to think the woman's death wasn't much different than the last few years she had been alive. However, that's just what it was and she didn't have the energy to fight it. She didn't have the energy to do much of anything. She had seen too much death and pain and she was sick of it. 

Her flat seemed more empty than normal despite that she had been living there with just Willamina for a year and a half. She remembered how hard it was at 221B right after Sherlock died. Things were quiet and what most would consider peaceful but Sibley had been living in chaos for so long it was unsettling. She stopped finding body parts. She never fell asleep to the sound of a violin playing. She never randomly heard gunshots or other unexpected noises when she was trying to do homework in her room. She never had pointless arguments with a grown man child. It was normal. She hated it.

Eventually she got used to it though and then when she and John moved it was even better. 221B wasn't right without the insanity but the flat she and John moved into was a fresh start in a way. It didn't hold any memories that created expectations. They were able to create a new normal. John had been right. The move was good for them. Then there was her personal move. Just her all alone and trying to move on with her life.

Sibley tried to write, tried to read, tried to watch television, tried to compose something on her violin, but she couldn’t focus on anything. The day's events reminded her of what she had lost before. Reminded her of the day the two people she loved most in the world were flattened on the cold concrete outside of St. Barts. She needed a case. 

“Mummy, you okay?” Willamina asked her as she paced.

“Yes, baby, I’m just thinking.” she sighed. Willamina shook her head.

“You need to wo-k.” she said. Sibley smirked at her daughter. Willamina really was smart for her age. It seemed that Sherlock’s genius had skipped her and gone to her daughter because the kid sometimes astounded Sibley with things she knew. She was walking and speaking at 9 months old. She had already learned her mother's habits and knew that when Sibley got antsy she turned to work, to distraction.

Sibley walked over to where the toddler was coloring and kissed her on the forehead.

“Would you be okay to go hang out with John and Mary while I go to work?” she asked. She promised herself when Willamina was born that she would always put her daughter first whenever she possibly could. Of course normal scheduled work she sometimes didn’t have a choice, but if she did and Willamina didn’t want her to go- she wasn’t going.

“What ‘bout Aunt Molly?” she asked.

“I can make a call but she might be working today.” she said. Willa just shrugged and continued to color in the unicorn on the page in front of her. Sibley quickly called Molly to find that she was off and was happy to take care of Willa.

She slipped on her leather jacket, got Willamina dressed and an overnight bag and went out the door.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You show up at my house despite the fact that you’ve been dead for four years and that's what you have to say? That’s what’s shocking? Oh my God, I’m losing my mind.” she laughed and put her face in her hands. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself down.

“Oh my god, are you serious?!” Sibley asked, admiring the ring John had just given to her. Willamina walked over to see what all the fuss was about and got an excited smile.

“You going to marry Mary?” she squealed, climbing not very gracefully into her mother's lap.

“Well, that is if she says yes tonight,” he said, pocketing the ring. Willamina clapped her hands.

“Can I be the flowa girl? I would make a good flowa girl!” she cheered. John laughed as Sibley smoothed down some of Willamina’s wild blonde curls.

“Probably, love, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet.” he said. Willamina laid her head on her mother's chest and began to fiddle with some of Sibley’s bracelets.

“Well I know Mary loves you so she’ll say yes and I know she loves me so I know I’ll be the flowa girl.” she said. Both adults laughed.

“So I'm guessing you both approve.” 

“Of course we do, John! Mary is wonderful and I agree with Willamina, I think she’s guaranteed to say yes. So when are you going to propose?” Sibley asked.

“Well, I was thinking tonight, actually.” he said.

“Wow! I’m so excited! I’ll need an update as soon as you two are apart.” Sibley said. John laughed.

“I will let you know how it goes. For now I have errands to run so I will see you girls later.” and with that he was out the door. Sibley looked down at her daughter and thought aloud.

“Why do I feel like something’s gonna go wrong?”  
~~~

A freshly shaven and stitched up Sherlock Holmes stood in his elder brother's dark office, straightening the new belstaff.

“Where’s my old one?” he asked.

“Sibley has it. I didn’t have the energy to try and wrestle it from her when I could just buy a new one,” he stated. 

“Speaking of, I think I'll surprise her, and John, they’ll be delighted,” he said.

“You think?” Mycroft asked, his lizard-like smile spreading across his face.

“I’ll pop into Baker Street. Who knows- jump out of a cake!” he exclaimed.

“Baker Street? They’re not there anymore,” his brother replied. Sherlock frowned. “Why would they be? It’s been four years. Sibley is twenty-one and John’s moved on by now. They’ve gotten on with their lives.” he said.

“What life? I’ve been away…. Where will they be tonight?” he asked.

“How should I know?” 

“You always know.”

“John has a dinner reservation in Marylebone Road. Sibley will most likely be home eating chicken nuggets and watching children’s cartoons,” Mycroft said smugly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

“Cartoons?” he asked. Mycroft just smirked at him.

“Well, I’ll go by the restaurant first then John can show me to her flat.” he said.

“You know it’s possible you might not be welcome.” Mycroft said.

“No it isn’t. Well then, goodbye, brother-mine,” and with that Mycroft watched as his brother left, probably to walk into his own doom. What a show it would be.

~~~

Sherlock sat at the diner table bruised from John’s attack at the restaurant. Mary sat next to John, watching their exchange. He began to explain how he faked his death, but John stopped him.

“You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick.” he said.

“What?” Sherlock asked.

“I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.” he insisted

“Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped.” he insisted. John just gave him a look and it dawned on him.

“I see. Yes. ‘Why?’ That’s a little more difficult to explain.” he said.

“I’ve got all night.

“Actually, um, that was mostly Mycroft’s idea.” he stated. 

“Oh, so it’s your brother’s plan?” John asked. 

“Oh, he would have needed a confidant …” Mary said, pointing to Sherlock, he nodded and John gave her a look. She muttered an apology and put a stern face back on. 

“But he was the only one? The only one who knew?” John asked. 

“Couple of others.” he admitted. John looked down. 

“It was a very elaborate plan – it had to be.” he insisted. Now he was practically begging John without actually begging. 

“Who else knew?” he asked. 

“Molly.” Sherlock sighed. 

“Molly?” John asked angrily. 

“John.” Mary said gently. 

“Molly Hooper – and some of my homeless network, and that’s all.”

“Okay… Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps. Wait. So you didn't tell Sibley? I mean, obviously you didn't tell Sibley. Why didn't you at least tell Sibley?! Do you know how many weeks it took just for her to come out of her room? She was miserable, Sherlock!” he exclaimed. Sherlock looked down at his hands. 

“No. I was going to visit her next.” Sherlock said. John nodded and stood, fists clenched. 

“We're going together. You, me, and Mary. No way you're pulling what you pulled on me on her.” Sherlock nodded and followed John and Mary out of the diner and over to a cab. 

~~~

Sibley was at the kitchen table tapping away notes on her computer when there was a knock on the door. It was fairly late in the night, Willamina had already been in bed for a couple of hours, and it just didn’t make sense for anyone to be at her door. As she debated what to do there was another knock so she unlocked her gun safe, shoved her pistol into her waist band and opened the door.

She wasn’t sure exactly what she was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t her dead father, his best friend, and his best friend's girlfriend to be standing in her doorway. 

She was shocked into silence. Unsure of what to say or even if what she was seeing was real.

“Hello, Sibley.” Sherlock said.

She wasn’t sure what overcame her. The shock, the sleep deprivation, the grief, the confusion- whatever it was, it took over her body and she reeled back and punched him in the face. He stumbled slightly, not expecting it. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth.

“I don’t know why- I- Uh- what… what the hell.” she stuttered. This situation was confusing and too much for her brain to handle.

“Basically, not dead.” he said. John kicked him and Mary took over the situation. 

“Sibley, love, why don’t we come in?” she asked. Sibley looked over her shoulder hesitantly but nodded and stepped to the side. Her eyes stayed glued on her father the entire time.

“So you- you’re ali- I… what the hell is going on.” Sibley sunk into her chair and Sherlock looked around the room.

“You have a daughter.” he said. She looked at him incredulously.

“You show up at my house despite the fact that you’ve been dead for four years and that's what you have to say? That’s what’s shocking? Oh my God, I’m losing my mind.” she laughed and put her face in her hands. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself down. 

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but John stopped him, recognizing Sibley needed a minute to collect herself. After several moments of sitting in shock she pulled her face away from her hands and pushed her hair back.

“So… you were alive… Please, tell me you were tied up somewhere. Tell me you somehow were saved and just none of us knew and you had no way to get in contact until this point. Tell me this isn’t your fault.” she said, looking up at her very much alive father. It was obvious from his face that he couldn’t say that.

“I had to stop Moriarty.” was all he offered.

“Moriarty wasn’t actually dead?” she grimaced.

“Well, he was, but he had an entire web of crime I had to dismantle.” he said. 

“So you faked your death. Allowed me to believe I had watched you bleed out onto the concrete when in reality you were alive. That whole time, you were alive!” she shouted, standing back up.

“Well yes, I had to-”

“Mummy?” the small toddler stumbled into the room, rubbing her eyes. Sibley immediately rushed towards her daughter.

“Hey, baby, i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” she whispered, lifting Willamina onto her hip. Willa laid her head onto Sibley’s shoulder and looked at Sherlock.

“Das de dead guy. Your daddy,” she said, confused.

“Yeah, baby, he’s not actually dead. It’s hard to explain. Why don’t we get you back to bed and we can talk about it in the morning?” she asked. Willamina, still half asleep and too tired to argue, nodded. Sherlock watched as Sibley disappeared into Willamina’s room.

“Mummy, you okay?” Willa asked, reaching up and tugging on one of her mother’s curls as she laid her down. Sibley sighed and brushed some of Willa’s hair out of her face.

“I’m alright, darling, go back to sleep.” she kissed her on the forehead and exited the room.

“Sibley-”

“Stop,” she interrupted her father, “I honestly don’t want to hear it right now. Just… What about Amber?” she asked. 

“She truly did die.” he said. Sibley shook her head. Part of her had hoped, but she knew it couldn’t be true.

“How could you do this? How could you do that to me? To John?” she asked, trying to avoid the tears threatening to fall.

“I did what I had to.” he said. She shook her head.

“Get out.” she whispered. Sherlock didn’t argue, he just looked at John and Mary, and walked out the front door. 

Within seconds Sibley had collapsed into John’s arms in tears.


End file.
